


Shame

by Trash_King



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Onesided unhealthy relationships, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-27
Updated: 2013-01-27
Packaged: 2017-11-27 03:53:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/657766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash_King/pseuds/Trash_King
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You have him cornered. Alone.<br/>You should cull him. You should turn him in to the Condescension.<br/>You should break him, hunt down all his followers and force him to watch as they are exterminated one by one. <br/>But you don't.</p><p>[Warning: Please don't read if you are expecting something happy. This reveals an unhealthy relationship..that is mostly just Dualscar being manipulative. ]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shame

He was always too kind. Too naive for your tastes.  
His sermons about a culture free from conflict and suppression based on blood color is a downright insult to the Imperial Condescension’s rule.

You have him cornered. Alone.  
You should cull him. You should turn him in to the Condescension.  
You should break him, hunt down all his followers and force him to watch as they are exterminated one by one.   
After all, is that not the punishment lowly dirtbloods deserve for even daring to glance up at their betters in passing?

 

But you don’t. Oh no, you don’t.  
After all, who is to say you can’t indulge in a little…fun?  
Hesitation flickered in the eyes of your crew as you waved them off imperiously, but they made no protest as they obeyed.   
As the last of them stepped outside and the door slid shut, you approached the broken bloody individual in the middle of your floor, tarnishing it with ugly crimson.

He glances up at your imminent approach, surprise reflected clearly in his eyes as you lowered yourself down onto his level with him, but he bites his tongue.  
Silent and watchful.  
“Signless, is it?” You picked at your words carefully. “My apologies for my crew’s rough treatment.”  
You offered a sombre look, voice soft and gentle as you take his hands in yours and tried not to mind the slight flinch.  
“Tell me. Preach to me, your ideals. Why are you doing this?”

There it is. Astonishment at your interest. Bewilderment at your supposed sincerity.   
You knew he was going to believe you actually wanted to hear it. Silly little self-justified worm.   
Slowly but surely, he begins to speak, words flow with a soft sense of rhythm.   
You let him continue, nodding your head occasionally. As if you’d believe any bit of his disgusting and pathetic notions.  
You see the small flame of hope in his eyes, and you could almost laugh at how keen he is to believe in a world that is all wonderful and kind.

You keep him alive.  
Each day, you are harsh and domineering. Cruel.  
And as night falls, you go to him. Quiet and always gentle.  
A complete opposite as you were in the light.  
He receives you, soft sympathy in his eyes as he takes you in his arms and smooths the weary worries from your brow. As if he’d ever come close to understanding you.

Then again, perhaps he does.  
You talk to him. Your loneliness, your pain, anguish, sorrow.  
And he drinks it up. Never questions as he rocks you gently, grounds you like no other.   
He speaks you you, quells your anxiety. He doesn’t blame you when you lash out at everyone and at him.   
Doesn’t push you away when you come in to tend to his wounds afterwards.

You think you can stand to pity him.  
Small pathetic troll trying to change something that will forevermore reign, him against the rest of the world.  
You think you could almost adore this sad little creature with that lone wistful look in his eyes as the moonlight shines on him just rightly so.   
Sometimes, you even let yourself pity him.

He was never receptive to your advances, but he never once pushed you away.   
Flush was out of the question. But he lets you embrace him, returns your kisses with hesitant ones of his own.   
He believes in you so fiercely, sometimes it even makes your blood pusher twang with the remnants of your guilt and conscience.  
He doesn’t pity you. You don’t pity him.  
Not quite. But that is enough.

Enough to bind and hold him to you.  
And that suits you just fine.   
As long as you remain the lonely misguided sea dweller to him, as long as you still have a place within his blood pusher, you can sway him.   
Influence him.  
Make him yours eventually.  
‘Mine’ is a nice term to use. It does please you so to think about it.   
As long as he cares for you, he will never be free. You will cheat your way in, poison the very core of him.  
He will always be yours.

You see the look in his eyes as they broke in to save him.  
The hesitancy. The reluctance. The hope.  
A mixture of conflicted emotions.  
And that is immensely rewarding for all your efforts you’ve placed in him. For as long as he lives, he will never be completely free.  
Not from you. Oh no.

You were present, the day they held the public culling execution.  
The force of his anger leaves you breathless, despite you being at the very back, mostly hidden by the crowd.   
The intensity of such wrath sends exquisite tremors down your spine. And even through his hopeless anguish, his eyes sweep, not glaring. Searching.

You almost had it in you to shed a tear for him when you realized he was searching for you.   
Almost as if he had faith in you to arrive and somehow save all his followers. Such foolishness.

He died full of anguish and fury.  
Quite a shame. You decided you liked that little pet of yours.  
Oh well.  
There will be others.


End file.
